A Past Memory
by SamNny
Summary: Johnny starts having flashes of a past memory haunt him. Finally, he goes in search to solve the mystery of the memory and his own past.


A paralyzing white light. A step back in time. A boy of only five or six runs down the street. I wasn't quite sure what was happening, or who the small boy was, but I knew one thing: this scene was awfully familiar.

It triggered something in me and put me in a state of deep thought. I tried desperately to remember other details to the scenario. To remember anything at all. After thinking it over for about a half an hour, I decided that it was a memory. What kind of memory? I'm not sure.

I stared out my boarded up window, gazing hopelessly at the stars, searching for the answers to my endless questions. The memory seemed so insignificant and minor that one would think it would deserve no more thought. Maybe it was, but I still wanted to remember it. Just to say that I can remember some things.

I had noticed that my 'vacation' had a big effect on my life. When I came back, I couldn't breathe. The stench of this awful place flooded my nostrils and overwhelmed my senses. It was awful. Even now, I still cannot breathe properly.

My vision was clouded by something dark and thick. It took me several days to find out what it was. It was the smog from the factory just outside of town. It wasn't terribly far away and after all the years of its constant production, the air became clouded with its wasteful contents. It contributed to the wretched smell and it made me wonder how anyone could stand it. Then again, they've been living here all their lives. They don't know any different.

Everything felt different, too. All of my old furniture, which I once paid no mind or discomfort too, felt stiff and uncomfortable. My couch felt sunken in and smelled like blood and used cat litter. My bed felt stiff and sent a sharp, painful sensation through me. I later discovered that the pain was caused by broken springs in my old, tattered mattress. Everything that once felt comfortable and normal, now felt broken and hardened.

Lots of things changed between the time I left and came back. It wasn't limited simply to my senses or feelings. The town itself had changed. It wasn't drastic or anything, but it was different. They tore down the old 7/11 and put up a new café. Like we really needed another one of those. And the old bookstore that Devi used to work at was now a fast food restaurant. The little things I remember about this place were what got changed. All of the big, important businesses were still there, and they still haven't done the road construction they said they were going to do. I know this because my street still has that giant pothole from that storm a few years ago. It knocked a transformer down and it crashed right into the center of the road.

After a long while of staring off into the sky I decided to go out. I wasn't going anywhere in particular, and there was no reason for my sudden decision to leave. It was spur of the moment, I guess.

I walked aimlessly up and down the streets of my old neighborhood. I had seen everything once already, seeing as how the first thing I did when I came back was look around. But it never hurt to look again.

I rounded the corner that led to the park entrance. There was nothing special about this park. It was ordinary. It had some swings, a sand pit, a small playground, and some scattered park benches. Normally, I'd say that time had withered and worn this place down, making it the piece of scrap metal and dust that it was. However, that was not the case. I remember when they first built this place; it looked almost exactly like it does now. The swings hung on rusted chains, just like they do now. The sand pit had twigs and trash in it before the park even opened, just like it does now. The playground made squeaky noises whenever you walked on it, just like it does now. And the benches were poorly bolted to the ground, allowing you to rock them, just like they are now.

I guess you could say that the only difference was when they first built it; they had a nice sidewalk going through it for people to walk on and cut through to the other side. Now the cement was cracked and grass was growing through it. The sidewalk was almost nonexistent.

I walked into the park and stayed on what was left of the sidewalk. I looked around at the broken down equipment and poorly kept lawn and then something hit me. Not literally, mind you. That white light from before came back and engulfed me. I saw the same boy from earlier, running. I then realized that he was running through this very park, on this very sidewalk. I also took notice of the fact that he was covered in something… red. Blood, perhaps?

The memory ended as soon as it began, and the white light released me. I had been standing in place, still, for the past thirty seconds or so. Something about this place triggered something in me. It made me remember.

I decided that the only way I was going to remember the rest of this was to follow the boys' path. I don't know where he's going, but I know he went through the park.

So I walked to the other end of the park, which led out to an alley way. You'd think that when they built it, they'd have had the exit lead out directly to the street. But they didn't.

I walked down the alley way and took in all of the small details. The two buildings that created the alley were significantly different. One building was extremely tall, while the other was fairly small. There was a small cable that ran from one to the other, and a pair of sneakers was dangling from it. The walls had dirt, dust, and sludge all over them and there were cracks of various sizes in them. There was one dumpster and it was covered in graffiti. It was bright and colorful, illegible, and most likely some gang affiliation sign. The ground was covered in trash, particularly broken glass, and a small pile of vomit could be seen by a lone trash bag.

It wasn't until I got to the end of the alley way and turned around, that another white flash of light engulfed me. This time, the small boy was running from the park exit and he dove behind the dumpster. He slid down to the ground and hugged his knees to his chest. He was panting heavily and sweat trickled down his face. This time I could clearly see that the red on him was in fact blood.

He held his eyes shut tightly and he was shaking rather violently. I couldn't see his face very well, but he looked oddly familiar. He was pretty tall for his age and incredibly thin. He had big eyes and black hair. He hid the rest of his face behind his knees, which were still pressed tightly to his chest. Before the white light released me yet again, I heard him say something.

_Oh, God. Oh, God. Why…_

Then it was gone. The memory retreated yet again and I was standing at the end of the alley way, frozen in place as the world kept going on behind me. I turned around and saw the shop across the street. Well, it used to be a shop. Now it was just a vacant building.

I saw people walking by in every direction, cars would drive by as well, usually inhabited by some wanna-be, teenage punk, blaring their rap music too loud. How rap constitutes as a genre of music is beyond me. It made me want to take a knife and jab it in their ears in order to show them how horrible their taste in music is.

Which reminds me; I never told you what happened while I was on 'vacation.' It wasn't anything special and it didn't help like I wanted it too, but I think it made a difference. It didn't rid me of my homicidal tendencies, and it didn't make me any less angry, but it helped clear my mind a little.

Basically, I went and lived in a hotel for a few months. I couldn't afford more than one nights' stay, so I ended up killing the manager so I wouldn't get kicked out. Then, after that, I spent most of my time in deep thought. I tried to analyze my life from the beginning to the present, only to find out that I didn't know where the beginning was. The farthest back I could remember was six years. All of my memories from then until now were the same. They all involved some form of murder, blood, overwhelming despair, death, suicide, and agony.

I would go out and be amongst the people. I was surprised at how different they were. They weren't all your typical assholes/bitches. They were friendly and polite, aware of their mistakes, redeeming themselves from them. It was strange, at first, and I didn't know how to react. It was the first time in my life I could remember not having the urge to go on a murderous rampage. I grew accustomed to it after a little while and then I came back.

Why'd I come back when I had finally found something better? I was confused myself, at first, but then I decided that going back was the only way I was going to test my new found clarity.

My mind slowly wandered back to the present and I found myself standing in front of the vacant building. I had no intention of going inside and, to be honest, I don't remember crossing the street. So before I could lose myself in another dream like haze, I walked away.

It had occurred to me that the boy from my memory was running from something. He ran through the park and then stopped behind the dumpster. What happened before that? How did he get covered in blood? Where did he come from? I had to find all of this out in order to complete this memory.

Somehow I had to back-track the boys' steps. I thought about it: the memory started at my house, continued in the park, and ended in the alley. So somehow this entire incident began at my house. It was the only logical explanation. So I ended my walk and went back home.

On my way back I became more curious about the boy. How did this all start at my house? The boy must have lived there before I moved in. I don't remember moving in, though. I always just remember being… there.

When I got to my front door I noticed that the back gate was ajar. I didn't think that anyone would be foolish enough to actually go back there, so I just assumed that the wind blew it open. The lock on it broke years ago. In fact, I remember breaking it.

I went to go and close it; maybe I'd even rig the lock to keep it closed, when something happened. As soon my hand made contact with the gate, the white light appeared again.

I saw a brief glimpse of the boy pushing the gate open. He was walking his bicycle back and was going to put it in the backyard. He pushed the gate open, put the bike away, and closed the gate. Then he walked up to the front porch and placed his hand on the door knob.

The white light thrust me back into reality and I was rather shocked. The boy had to have lived here if he was putting a bike away in the backyard. This whole thing was starting to make me anxious because now I was confused. The boy couldn't have lived here before I moved in because I don't remember it. I don't remember moving in and I never knew the people who used to live here, if anyone ever did. This was a memory, after all, and for me to remember it, it must have been significant to some extent. I know for a fact that I never met anyone who used to live here. Or if anyone ever used to live here at all.

I walked inside and shut the door behind me. I started going in and out of the various rooms in my house, trying to trigger my memory. Nothing was working. I went into the living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and the utility room. Nothing. I was about to head down the many levels of basement that this house had, when I remembered the extra room.

You see, there is a room at the end of the hallway. This room has been sealed off for as long as I can remember. Surprisingly, I was never curious enough to open it. After dealing with the Doughboys and the wall monster, I didn't want anymore surprises. So I left it alone.

I went and grabbed a hammer and started prying the boards off the door. Was everything sealed in my house sealed up by boards? It sure seemed like it. I started pulling the nails out and throwing the boards aside. Finally, I had the door completely unsealed and ready to open.

I reached for the door knob and was instantly taken away by the white light. However, this time I didn't see the young boy. No, this boy was older. He was about nine or ten. He was also tall for his age and super skinny. He had big eyes and black hair, as well. Naturally, I can only assume that this is the same boy, only older.

He had a hammer and nails and was boarding up the room that I had just finished opening. His eyes were bloodshot and wild and he pounded the nails into the boards furiously. He was not covered in blood like his younger version, but he was covered in cuts and bruises. He had scratch marks on his hands and arms and bruise on the side of his face. God only knows what happened to him. Then, once again, the white light expelled me, and I was standing in front of the door.

I opened it quickly and took a peek inside. The room was pitch black and I couldn't see a thing. I reached my hand in and felt around for a light switch. When I found it and flicked the light on, the room barely lit up. The bulb must be burning out.

I looked around and was in complete shock. It was as if I recognized this room and at the same time I didn't. It was another bedroom, though much larger than mine, and it was stained with blood. The bed, the night-stand, the sheets, the walls, just everything was covered with blood. There were two unrecognizable mounds on the bed. I stepped inside and walked over to them, but I still couldn't recognize them. All I knew was that they'd been there a while and they were the cause of the atrocious smell of my house.

I looked around the room again and saw scratch marks on the walls and floor. It looks like a struggle went on in here.

Then I looked over to the closet. I saw that it was partially open. I went over and opened it the rest of the way. There was a bloody knife lodged into the floor.

The white light took me again and this time it didn't let go so quickly. I saw the little boy walking down the hallway and up to the door. Thuds and crashes could be heard coming from the inside. The boy walked up to the door and pressed his ear to it in hopes of hearing better. There was a loud scraping noise, like nails scratching into something, and the boy quickly opened the door and ran inside.

Upon stepping inside he saw two adults, more than likely his parents, being thrust onto the bed. There was another adult who was pinning them down. He had a knife in his hand and quickly brought it down onto the boy's parents. They shrieked and hollered in pain.

In a state of fear and panic, the boy ran and hid in the closet instead of running back out the door. He peered through the slits in the closet door and watched as the man brutally mutilated his parents. He saw their blood fly everywhere and their throbbing screams echoed throughout his mind. He heard his parents' last words before they were completely drained of life.

_No! Please, stop!_

_Why are you doing this, you sick, fucking bastard!_

And then they were gone. Their lifeless bodies sprawled over the bed like throw pillows, with a crazed maniac standing over them. He had a smirk on his face that showed his satisfaction. He took the knife and licked some of the blood off of it, laughing quietly to himself, and then he turned around.

He knew that the boy had seen the entire thing. He also knew that he didn't run away. He was hiding in the bedroom, watching terrified from some dark corner. The thought made him grin.

He walked over to the closet and opened the door slowly. The boy was completely terrified and was paralyzed with fear. The man looked down at him, grin still on his face, and held the knife out. He took it and thrust it down, causing the boy to close his eyes. He thought it was the end. A painful death after seeing his parents massacred. It was cruel beyond all reason. But the knife never touched him. It never pulled at his flesh and drew blood from his veins. Instead it hit the floor, drilled into one spot in between the boys' legs.

The man knelt on the ground for a moment, making eye contact with the boy, and said the words that would forever haunt him.

_It's all up to you now._

Then he was gone. He got up and walked away, never to be seen or heard from again. He dropped off the face of the Earth.

The small boy had his eyes open widely, and for the first time his face rang a bell in my head. I finally recognized him. Tall for his age, ridiculously skinny, big eyes, black hair, has a reason to put a bike in the backyard, and later, to board up this very room….

It was me. I was the small boy of five or six who ran down the park sidewalk covered in blood. I was the small boy who dove behind the dumpster and shook violently with fear. I was the boy of nine or ten who drove the nails into the boards to seal the room. I was the boy who hid in the closet and watched his parents die before his very eyes. It was me all along.

Everything started to come back to me. All of those forgotten memories of my childhood came flooding back, hitting me with full force until I could physically feel them.

I threw up.

I fell to my knees, one hand tangled in my hair, while the other supported my body. I remember everything that happened after that. I remember being too scared to move from that spot in the closet. I remember going crazy with grief at the loss of my parents. I remember not knowing what to do with their bodies. I never called the police. I was afraid that man would know. I remember slowly going crazy while I went back to their bedroom day after day. I finally snapped one day, decided torturing myself wasn't healthy, and sealed off their room.

It all makes sense now. The anorexia, the insomnia, the homicidal tendencies, the memory loss, everything makes sense! The trauma from that night was so intense that it made me this way. It started with appetite loss, which turned into anorexia. Then the sleep deprivation came and turned into insomnia. The fact that my parents' death was unfair and unjustified spurred my homicidal tendencies. And finally, the memory loss was from the sheer trauma of the entire thing. Everything that's ever happened in my life and every wrong doing that I've ever done can be explained by this one incident. That one moment set the course for my entire life.

That's what started it all. That's where it all began. That was the start of my downward spiral. And I hate that man for what he did. I remember when my fear of him turned into a burning hatred. That same feeling has come back to me, now that I remember it. My entire life has just unfolded right before my eyes and I feel this sudden sensation of empowerment. Something tells me that I've found permanent freedom from my demons.

* * *

"A/N: So this was just a quick little idea that popped into my head. I thought it was a good way to tie up loose ends in the comic, seeing how it never explained how he got so messed up and anything about his past or what became of him during/after his 'vacvation.' I will NOT make this longer, nor will I make a sequel. This was not meant to be a multi-chapter story, or have a sequel to it, so please don't ask. Anyway, please review!"


End file.
